


Lovesick

by FyrienO



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Illnesses, M/M, Mutual Pining, Tsunderes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-11-19 12:41:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11313615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FyrienO/pseuds/FyrienO
Summary: When Keith comes down with the flu he refuses to believe it, but his body's insistence that he be ill leaves him weak and unable to care for himself. Unfortunately, everyone tolerable that might have cared for him has inconveniently disappeared, leaving only one option.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello

Pidge’s eyebrow twitched as Keith sneezed for the seventh time in less than an hour, paintbrush paused, dripping onto the floor from their hand.

“Keith.” They said. Quiet deadly calm.

“What? I can’t help it.” Keith continued his painting. His galaxy was spreading quite nicely across the easel now. The places where he’d smudged it during a sneeze he’d turned into nebulas, and he was rather pleased with the effect.

“My nice geometric lines don’t agree with your frantic presence.”

“I’m not frantic I just…have a sneeze.”

“You’re ill.”

“I’m not ill!” He exclaimed for the third time. He refused to be ill. He had a nice weekend planned, filled with alone time and drawing, and he wasn’t going to let his mutinous body ruin it. Pidge rolled their eyes, but returned to their painting without further comment. Keith glanced over and his head immediately swam trying to follow all the lines Pidge had drawn, twisting into each other, some fading out and back in. They’d filled in the spaces between lines with dark green paint, slapping it on haphazardly in the way they always did. Keith always wondered why they drew their lines so neat if they were going to just throw the paint on anyway, but wasn’t about to critique Pidge. He’d never understand modern art.

“If you get worse I’m not going to nurse you.”

“You say that, but you would.” Keith smirked at his friend, who sighed and shook their head with exasperation. “Besides, I brought you donuts when you were ill last year so it’s only fair that you return the favour.”

“You don’t like donuts.”

“Well yeah, but you could bring me crisps or something.”

“Just don’t get worse.” Keith nodded, then sneezed, accidently rubbing his hand on the canvas.

“Guess I’ll paint another nebula.” He grumbled. Pidge eyed him out of the corner of their eye.

When the class finished Keith wearily pushed all off his art supplies into his bag and rested his head on his knees. He could feel a headache coming on now, and was trying to forcefully push it out. Headaches were the worst for painting with.

“Here.” Pidge said, handing him his now clean brushes. He grunted and threw them into his bag without look up, causing Pidge to snort. “Come on, grumpy. Let’s go.” They pulled him to his feet.

“I think I might be ill.” Keith admitted as they headed towards the dorms.

“Admittance is the first step to acceptance, Keith. Also, you’re still coming to the café tomorrow.”

“Pidge.”

“Keith.”

“I can’t handle Lance on the best of days, I can’t do it when I’m ill.” Pidge huffed, shifting their stuff in their arms.

“You’re coming, Keith. If you’re not there I’ll come to your room and drag you out. When was the last time you even went out? For something other than a class?” Keith scowled and made a non-committal noise. “Was it when I made you watch Fantastic Beasts with me and Hunk?” He made a scoffing noise. “It was, wasn’t it.”

“So what? I like my alone time, big deal.” Keith’s headache was making him increasingly grumpy. All he wanted to do was curl up on his bed with a hot drink and draw, maybe play a game. He certainly didn’t want to have his social life analysed.

“Well you’re coming out tomorrow so don’t forgot. 2pm, be there.” Pidge waved as they parted ways, Keith heading to the part of the accommodation area that wasn’t in the university brochures. He trudged through darkly lit passages, past dingy coloured buildings and rubbish. When he reached his building he noticed that, once again, the glass door to his area had been smashed in, and he avoided the broken shard that hung from it as he pushed it open.  He fumbled in his pocket, trying to untangle his key from his pocket lining, then felt a modicum of relief when he managed to get the main door open and he stepped inside.  Repelled from the kitchen and his noisy flatmates, he headed straight into his room and rummaged around in his food stash for a cereal bar. He smiled slightly when he noticed a forgotten orange, previously obscured under his crisps, and plucked it from its hiding place.

Once his great feast was over, he pulled his sketchbook from the top shelf and shuffled to the next new page, tapping his pencil on his chin while he decided what to draw next. There was a flutter from the window, snapping his attention, and he looked up to see a month, frantically throwing itself against the light. He smiled, putting pencil to paper.

 

Pidge and Hunk jumped as the door to the kitchen was slammed open, revealing a glowing Lance.

“Guess who passed their exam!” He cried, holding out a piece of paper, where a 50% could be seen, circled in red.

“Congrats Lance!” Hunk exclaimed, giving Lance a thumbs up.

“Lance you passed by ten percent.” Pidge said in a monotone, giving him a vaguely disappointed look.

“Exactly! Isn’t that great! Last time I only scraped forty percent so this is a definite improvement. Thanks for that tutoring!” Pidge tried not to smile but failed, rolling their eyes.

“Next time we’ll get you sixty.” Lance nodded enthusiastically, then scrunched up his nose.

“Are you baking?” He asked, scuttling up to the oven and pushing Hunk aside to peer in.

“Yeah, thought I’d make some cookies. I made cinnamon ones because I know they’re your favourite.” Hunk grinned, and Lance felt a great swell of love for his friend.

“You’re the best!”

Once they’d had their dinner they retreated to Hunk and Lance’s room with the plate of cookies and gathered themselves on Hunk’s bed. Lance was allowed to choose the movie. Pidge had made an _ugh_ of protest when he’d selected Stardust, but Lance just grinned and settled back against Hunk, snatching a cookie from the plate on his friend’s lap.

“It’s a good movie, Pidge.”

“It’s okay at best. There’s about five plot holes, they fall in love in, like, a day, and it’s incredibly straight.”

“It’s fun!” Lance protested, and Pidge merely rolled their eyes. Hunk was nodding in agreement, a cookie in his mouth.

“Oh, by the way,” Pidge began, hastily swallowing their mouthful, “Keith is coming to the café with us tomorrow.”

“Ugh, mullet head? Why him?”

“Because he’s my friend, and he’s a nice guy. I think if you just spoke to him a little he might grow on you.”

“I don’t mind.” Hunk said with a smile. “The more the merrier.”

“But _him._ ” Lance groaned, burying his head in his hands. “He thinks he’s better at everything! _Oh, Lance, have you seen our scores for the mid-term?_ Yes I have! And I know you’re above me you giant prick!” Pidge raised an eyebrow.

“I think you’re the one being the prick in that situation. He’s my friend, and he’s coming.” They took a big bite to punctuate their sentence, attention returning to the movie they claimed to dislike as the opening credits ended. Lance let out a great sigh to the ceiling, Hunk patting him comfortingly on the shoulder.

They sat around arguing playfully and laughing while the movie ran in the background, more a base for the company than the reason for it.

Keith sat alone in his room, headphones on, trying to block out the sounds of his flatmates.

 

At 1:15pm, Keith stood in front of his mirror, twirling this way and that to examine his garb. Most of his clothes were waiting to be washed so he’d had few options. His red checked over-shirt was from a few years ago, and pinched at the corners, but it was his only remaining shirt apart from the horrible blue turtleneck. He’d struggled for ten minutes to get the sleeves to roll up to his elbows, and was pretending not to notice the circulation to his hands being cut off. Luckily he owned four identical pairs of trousers so no compromise had to be reached there. Checking his phone again, he sighed. Pidge had texted him fifteen minutes ago telling him to get ready and that they’d ‘swing by soon’ but he’d received no further instruction. He peered out the window and startled when he saw a tell-tale flash of blue, then focussed and made out the smirk. Rolling his eyes, he watched as Lance bounded ahead of the little group, then spread his arms wide as though acting something out. Hunk was laughing, and Keith could make out Pidge’s lips twitching. Pidge looked up, counting the windows to Keith’s, and waved when they spotted him peering out. He drew back, slightly abashed at having been caught staring.  After taking a last sweep of his room to make sure nothing was forgotten, he slipped his hands into his pockets and left. On the way down he began composing himself to face sociability, and put up an extra special barrier just to deal with Lance. Carefully pushing past the broken glass door, he winced under the scrutiny of the UV which he hadn’t touched all day. He’d only opened his curtains to keep an eye on Pidge’s arrival, and his pale skin protested at the sudden change. Squinting in the sunlight, he raised a hand to draw his friend’s attention, and made out a pale shape moving closer.

“Hey Keith! How you feeling?” They asked, a smirk in their voice which Keith could recognise from years of ribbing. He shrugged, giving Pidge a disarming half smile.

“Alright.” The movement of his face caused another surge of sneeze to rise, and his face wrinkled in his attempt to stall it.

“Still painting nebulas, I see.”

“I’m fine, Pidge.” He grumbled, rubbing his nose rather roughly, cross at his body for doing this to him. As if the universe wanted to worsen his situation, Lance and Hunk chose that moment to join them. Keith gave Hunk a greeting smile and Lance the dregs of it before he looked at that smirking face for too long and it was wiped from him.

“Aw, does Keithy have a little cold?” Lance grinned broadly, cocking his head as though examining Keith. His hands were on his hips in the jaunty way that always irritated Keith when he saw it, like Lance had no cares in the world. “Would you like a blanky?” He added. Keith shot him a withering look.

“Only if it’s going over my face so I don’t have to look at you.” He ignored Lance’s dramatic reaction, rolling his eyes only briefly before motioning to Pidge that they should get going. They fell into step beside him and chattered excitedly about a new programme they were running in their computer science class, arms rising and falling animatedly as they enthused. Keith tried to concentrate; he always enjoyed listening to Pidge getting excited about things, but his raging headache was becoming a little bothersome. He didn’t currently own any painkillers, and hadn’t had the wherewithal to leave his flat and buy some. He knew for a fact that Hunk always carried some medical supplies in his bag, plasters, painkillers, and the like, but asking for them now would be like opening Lance’s floodgates, and he didn’t want the mocking concern Pidge would give him either. Sighing quietly, he decided he’d just have to make it through a few hours before he could return to his cool, dark flat and become one with his bed.

“So, Keith. My man, my rival. How’d you do on your midterm?” Keith shot Lance a rather exasperated look as the annoyance trotted to his side.

“You know. You saw the board as much as I did.”

“So, pleased? I noticed you did rather worse than you usually do. Did you find it a bit tricky?”

“I really don’t think someone who only got 50% should be commenting on my score.”

“Ah, but you see, I improved. You disimproved. Therefore one day I’ll surpass you.” Keith snorted.

“Unlikely. And disimproved isn’t a word.”

“It is now. I’m an English minor I can make words up if I want to.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“What would you know, Mr moody painting.”

“Apparently more than you. And my paintings aren’t moody.”

“They are a little moody.” Pidge said, raising their hands in surrender when he turned his glare on them. “Not in a bad way, they’re just a little sorrowful, you know? You don’t tend to paint flowers and such.”

“Yeah.” Hunk agreed. “They’re really good, though. Really make you feel.” Keith flushed, regretting allowing them to crowd into his bedroom that one time and see his paintings on display on the walls. “Have you done any more recently?” He smiled then, appreciating Hunk’s dependable interest in his art. He’d spent an afternoon pouring over one of Keith’s sketchbooks that was allowed to be viewed, commenting on every drawing and saying what he liked about each one.

“Uh, yeah. I finished one yesterday actually.”

“It’s a galaxy.” Pidge supplied. “Though I think it’s more sneeze than space.”

“It’s fine! I didn’t sneeze on it.” Keith crossed his arms, glaring at Pidge.

“What if matter is just god’s sneezes.” Hunk mused, eyes going skyward as they always did when he believed himself to be contemplating something astronomical.

“Whoah!” Lance exclaimed. “Big thought! Though if Keith’s my god I might just have to stop existing.”

“He’s not your god, you’re just his sneeze.” Pidge said, then laughed at the look on Lance’s face. Keith smirked, glancing sideways at Lance.

“You should be honoured to be my sneeze.” Lance was set in a grimace, fingers twitching as though to clean himself of Keith.

“Why? You only came _fourth_ in the midterm.”

“And you scraped by with a bare minimum pass.”

“Hey! I worked hard for that.”

“That just makes it more sad.” Lance deflated at that, also crossing his arms, turning his face away from Keith and settling into a stubborn silence.

“Really though, he’s improved. With a few more weeks of my help he’ll be fine.” Pidge commented, elbowing Keith meaningfully in the side. _Shut up_ , their nudge communicated.

“Yeah man, you’re doing great! You weren’t even last.”

“It’s not a big deal…” Lance mumbled, lips protruding in a pout that Keith thought might have been endearing on anyone other than Lance.

“Either way, tests are over and that’s something to drink to.” Pidge cheered as they arrived at the café. Thrusting the door open to the pleasant tinkling of the bell, they cast their gaze around for the owner, then, smiling, made a beeline to her. “Hey Allura!” Allura raised her eyebrows at their sudden appearance, then, seeing who it was, settled into a welcoming smile.

“Hello everyone. Even Keith is here today.”

“Not willingly.” He grumbled, rolling his eyes.

“Give over, sourpuss, you love my milkshakes. Are you wanting your usual?” Keith relented, smiling and giving her a nod.  “And what will the rest of you be having?”

“Any of your milkshakes would be fine by me.” Lance leaned against the counter, giving Allura a flirtatious wink and raising his hands in what Keith realised, incredulously, were finger guns. Her face set in the sour and bored look almost automatically. He guessed it must do now, because Lance came in at least twice a week while Keith was working there, and every time he took the opportunity to flirt with her. He almost felt sorry for Lance. Well, if not sorry, he at least pitied him.

“I’ll make you a special one, Lance. Just for you.” Lance’s mouth fell open in shock, before he regained control of his body and nodded vigorously.

“Um, uh, yeah! That’d be cool.” He nodded again, handing over the money standard for all the milkshakes, before walking bemusedly to a cubicle.

“Allura this is almost cruel.” Pidge said, but their lips were spread in a grin. Allura laughed, not the fairy-like laugh one might expect from so beautiful a woman, but more of a cackle, like a witch standing over her cauldron.

“What? What’s going on?” Hunk looked between them, obviously confused.

“Nothing to worry about, my sweet bread roll, choose your milkshake.” Pidge urged him to the counter and he spent a while perusing the menu before settling on something which Keith thought looked disturbingly green. When Pidge and Keith stepped forwards to pay Allura pushed their hands away and winked.

“A bonus for my busy bees. A milkshake on the house.” They smiled, and a moment later Allura pushed Keith’s coffee and cream milkshake, and Pidge’s peanut butter one into their hands, and they joined their friends in the cubicle Lance was obviously daydreaming in.  “Here you are, Lance.” Allura had followed them over, holding a milkshake. There was a purr in her voice that caused the heat to rise to Lance’s cheeks. “A special milkshake, just for you.” She set it before him before he could speak and made good her escape, though Keith noticed her watching, half hiding behind her counter. Lance raised the drink to his lips and took a big gulp, before slapping a hand to his mouth, cheeks pulsing in his effort to not spit it all over the table.

“Good drink?” Keith asked, smirking as he mouthed his straw.” Lance shook his head, then finally managed to swallow his mouthful.

“What the hell is this? Allura!” She laughed from her counter.

“Kale and lemon, with no added sugar for your health!” She called, face bright in a grin which Lance definitely did not reciprocate.

“Ugh.” He wiped his mouth, face still wincing at the taste. “She played me.” He set his head down on the table and whimpered. “I can’t believe she played me.” There was a unanimous round of ‘I cans’ which only sent Lance further into misery. Keith decided hanging out with Lance wasn’t all bad. It was certainly fun to see him humiliated, and the general chatter in this group was always fun. Right now it was aimed at Lance, even better. Just then someone sat at the tables stood, and their chair scraped along the floor making a sound which Keith could only describe as death. His headache flared to life from it’s restless slumber, sending him groaning into the back of his seat.

“Keith.” Pidge leaned forwards, resting their chin on their hands. “Do you have a headache?”

“No.”

“Are you sure.”

“Yes.” Pidge rolled their eyes.

“Hunk, do you have any aspirin or whatever?” Hunk rummaged in the rucksack he always brought out with him and produced a packet of ibuprofen.

“I have these.” He proffered them to Keith, who, after contemplating them for a while, snatched them grumpily from his hand and popped two out.

“Aw, Keithy has a headache.”

“I’m fine. Ah!” Pidge had slapped their hand to his forehead, eyebrows drawing in concern.

“You’re hot.” If he were Lance, he would have made an unwitty remark, but as it was he merely met Lance’s eyes and saw the flash of amusement at the joke he would have made.

“I’m _fine._ ”

“Well make sure you don’t get ill because I literally can’t look after you, I’m going on that robotics course with Hunk.” Hunk smiled apologetically.

“Sorry buddy. Lance will be here though, you’re not going anywhere right?” He asked Lance, who was raising his eyebrows in disbelief.

“You think I’m going to nurse Mullet Head back to health? Nuh-uh. No can do. Can’t his brother do it?”

“Shiro’s away on some recuperation thing.” Pidge supplied, receiving a glare from Keith both from the reveal of that personal information and the implication that Lance would tend him.

“Not that it matters. Because I’m not really ill.” He sat up straighter to prove his point and sneezed. While they eyed him disbelievingly he struggled to regain his dignity. “Even if I was I could look after myself. Lance would probably kill me anyway.”

“No I wouldn’t! I’m a great nursemaid, I nursed my sister back to health when she had glandular fever!”

“Oh? So you want to _nurse_ Keith too?” Pidge was smirking, leaning forward suggestively into Lance’s space. He spluttered.

“No! I’m just saying I could. In theory. If I had to. But I don’t and I won’t.” His face had become even redder than before and his words came haltingly. “I’m going to get a milkshake.” He staggered off, the picture of uncomfortableness. While he was gone, Hunk turned his concerned gaze to Keith.

“I don’t mean to pry, but how is your brother? It’s just, he helped me out when I needed someone and I’m worried about him.” Hunk’s concern was genuine, and loathe as Keith was to discuss it, he couldn’t resist Hunk’s kindness.

“He’s alright. I think. I call him every other night to see how he’s getting on and I think he’s okay. He’s got over the worst of it now and his prosthetic’s actually pretty cool so that’s never been an issue it’s just…” He glanced to Pidge, who sighed.

“My brother.” Keith nodded, his voice becoming quiet.

“Shiro says he misses Matt more every day.”

“Him and me both.” They shared a sad smile. Then Lance returned, having regained his joviality, and broke the moment no one really wanted to prolong by spilling half of his drink on the floor. Keith saw Pidge’s grief switch into amusement and smiled, relieved that they seemed to be moving on. When you’ve been missing in a warzone for over two years you’re not likely to be coming back.

The rest of their trip was spent watching Lance clean the floor under Allura’s stern eye and making up imaginary spots that he’d missed. Lance didn’t seem to mind, making up more dramatic apologies every second, which eventually even had Allura smiling. As they made to leave, Allura caught Keith by the arm.

“Do you think you could come in tomorrow morning? I know you have it off and Fridays are always busy for us.”

“Yeah, sure.” He agreed, but inwardly winced. The last thing he wanted to be doing in his present state was working in a boisterous café, but he couldn’t say no to Allura after all she’d done for him. She gave him a smile, then returned to blending.

He was surprised to spot the time when he arrived back in his flat; they’d been out for about three hours but it hadn’t felt it. He’d even popped into a corner shop on his way back and bought himself a ready-meal so he could have a proper meal for once, though he knew Shiro wouldn’t call it that. A successful trip. He snuck into the kitchen so he could heat it up in the quiet hour before everyone came in for their dinner, then scuttled back into his room and shoved notebooks and paintbrushes off his desk so he could eat. He flipped open his phone as he did so, shooting a message to Shiro.

**(Keith)**

**What are you up to? I got a meal today, Thai green curry.**

**(Shiro)**

**And did you make it yourself? I bet not. I am fine, got some good advice today. How was your café trip?**

**(Keith)**

**It was ok, Lance was annoying but I expected that. It was nice to see Pidge and Hunk I guess.**

**(Shiro)**

**And Allura?**

**(Keith)**

**I see her like every day she’s my boss but yes your girlfriend was there.**

**(Shiro)**

**Not my girlfriend!! Bad Keith. ANYWAY I can’t talk anymore we have to go make dinner now it’s my teams turn on the rota. Chickpea soup. Bye keith love you :)**

**(Keith)**

**Whatever, go make your gross sounding soup.**

**(Shiro)**

**:) <3**

Keith smiled. Shiro seemed well, that was at least one less thing to worry about. He shoved his now empty curry box into the bin and then made his way to the bathroom, intending to freeze his headache out with some cold water. If his body wanted a war, then a war it would get.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again

Keith’s body, in apparent response to the shock treatment it had received last night, now refused to move. His limbs felt as though they were submerged in mud, his head protested with a sapping ache when he raised it, and he flushed with heat even though winter was approaching. His alarm cut through his brain like thousands of tiny needles, so he tried to shut it off, but instead his unwieldly limb sent it clattering to the floor, where it continued to scream. Gritting his teeth, he pushed himself off the bed and slammed the button, relieved when the noise finally stopped. He wanted nothing more than to curl back under his duvet, but his promise to Allura kept him up.

“Why?” He asked his body, and the movement of his jaw pained his head, sending him into a fit of groans. He decided to ignore his pains and instead considered his wardrobe, slowly pulling on yesterday’s jeans and a T-shirt. The mirror showed his rather pitiful face, which was significantly redder than usual and decidedly put out. The trek to the café had to be done in stages, he was mortified to discover he had to sit down at regular intervals or face collapsing in the middle of the street.

 

“Ah! Hello Keith.” Allura smiled when he walked through the door.

“Mm.” That hadn’t been what he’d meant to say. He tried again. “Mmhello.” Allura cocked her head.

“Are you quite alright? You’re rather flushed.” Keith waved her concerns off, grabbing his apron from where it had been set out for him on the counter. She peered at him for a moment longer, before shrugging her shoulders and disappearing into the backroom, leaving him to take orders at the front. Thankfully she always kept a stool out here, and he sank into it with his face in his hands. It was still early, barely 10am, so he hoped no one would come this early, even if the café was near the university proper. No such luck, though, for a moment later a rather bushy moustache came through the door, attached to an eccentrically dressed man. After squinting for a few moments Keith recognised him as Pidge’s computer science professor. Their description was definitely accurate. He sat up straighter, or tried to, and plastered on his customer service smile.

“What can I get you?” He asked, and his insides cringed at the fake-ness of his voice. The orange man came closer and peered at the menu board above his head, face drawn into an overly contemplative expression.

“Oh I think I’ll have the…what did I want? I’ll have the mango crush, no! The apple zinger.” He frowned again, humming under his breath. Allura trotted out from the back room and Keith sighed in relief. He was far too under the weather to deal with this.

“Coran! How have you been?” She gave the man a cheery smile and a wave, and his face lit up when he saw her.

“Allura, good to see you! How have you been? How’s business? How’s that boy?” Allura became nearly as red as Keith and she scoffed, fixing Coran with a reprimanding look.

“There is no boy to inquire after. As for business, it’s good; we’ve increased our sales by a fifth compared to last year.” She nodded in pride, crossing her arms as if to dare him to criticize _that_.

“Good! Good. Well I’ll add to that, get me a cherry and pineapple smoothie.” Allura hummed as she made it, and chattered with Coran. Keith watched in bemusement their apparent friendship, concentrating on their conversation so he could ignore the fact that his hands had begun to tremble. Coran gave them both a flamboyant wave before he left, sipping his smoothie.

“How do you know Pidge’s professor?” Keith asked raising an eyebrow at Allura.

“He was my tutor a while ago, and a family friend, before I went to Altea, and we’ve stayed in contact since I started uni. He’s nice man. A little odd, but nice.” She glanced to the door, as though hoping for another customer. “So, um.” Her gaze darted about the room. “How is Shiro? He texts me, but I don’t think he’d tell me if something bad had happened, he doesn’t want to worry me.”

“You think he’d tell me? He’s like the epitome of a protective older brother he probably wouldn’t tell me if he was on his death bed. I think he’s okay, though, he seems cheerful through what I can tell through texts.” He glanced slyly at her. “He misses you.” His words had the desired effect, and Allura become almost the colour of a beetroot. She fussed at her hair and walked up and down the counter as if to start a task, but then promptly returned to the back room. Keith smirked.

Another customer arrived a while later, and Keith reluctantly stood, swaying a little, to make their drink. It was almost done when his hand twitched in handing over the cup, sending it flying to the floor. Sighing, he closed his eyes. “Sorry.” He mumbled, reaching for a fresh cup and promptly dropping that too. The girl waiting for her drink laughed a little, not unkindly, and he felt heat rise to his cheeks. Once she’d had her drink and gone he set to work cleaning his mess, grumbling crossly to himself for several minutes. Allura came to help settle other orders, watching as his hands trembled and legs periodically failed beneath him until she decided enough was enough and put a hand to his forehead.

“Keith you’re far too hot!” She dragged him to the backroom and rummaged around, before unceremoniously shoving a thermometer under his tongue. He jumped in surprise but she ignored him, frowning. “Go home, Keith, and go to bed. I don’t want you knocking yourself out on my account, go on.” She removed the thermometer and pushed him to the door, untying his apron, Keith uttering unheeded complaints. “Keep a cold flannel on your forehead and take some painkillers. You must be feeling awful!” She smiled, gripping his upper arms. “I hope you get better soon, I only have the two of you after all.” Suddenly released, Keith teetered backwards before steadying himself on a wall, shaking his head at his infirmity. The café door now closed to him, he had no choice but to return to his flat. Not that he was complaining overmuch; he felt terrible.

 

Lance eyed Hunk critically, examining his handiwork. His friend’s face was covered in a blend of coconut butter, cucumbers, and kale, which he’d assured would make Hunk’s skin as smooth as a baby’s. He’d given strict instructions to not pick at or remove the mask until it’s work had been completed, and as such, Hunk was sitting patiently propped up against the cushions. Lance glanced at the timer on his phone, waiting the last ten seconds.

“Okay, you can take it off now.” Hunk didn’t move. “Hunk?” Lance administered a poke to the chest. No response. “Oi.” A firmer prod resulted in a jump, Hunk waving his arms in the air when he realised he couldn’t see.

“Lance! What’s going on?” He wailed. Lance laughed, ripping the pieces of cucumber, which had been enforced by masking tape, from his friend’s eyes.

“Wakey wakey!” He called, giving Hunk a big grin. Hunk looked rather unimpressed, reaching for a flannel to remove the gloop from his face. Other people using the kitchen were giving them looks, but Lance payed them no heed.

“Are you sure this does anything? It’s just made me sticky.”

“It’s good for you. You’re glowing Hunk, even more than usual. Have you ever seen a face smoother than mine? Coconut butter, that’s my secret, and now it’s yours too.” Hunk rubbed his face.

“It doesn’t feel smoother.”

“That was only the first application, you have to give it time. In a few weeks your skin will be as good as mine.” He beamed, turning his face side to side to show off his radiant skin.

“Alright, if you say so.” Lance nodded to indicate he most certainly did, then they both turned as Pidge slammed the door to the kitchen open and prepared their defences when they saw the look on their face.

“You wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had.” They trudged over and plopped themselves down on the sofa, pressing their face to their knees. Lance and Hunk exchanged a glance and Lance gave him a look that distinctly said _you do it._

“W-what happened?” Hunk asked, and Pidge, apparently not hearing the trepidation in his voice, threw their arms up into the air exasperatedly.

“My computer science professor has given me _two_ projects to complete within the next month weeks, never mind that they’ll both take hours and hours and we’re going away for a week, my mum’s running out of money so I’m going to have to increase my hours at Allura’s or get another job, and Keith’s decided to make himself ill right when I’m about to go away!” They fell into their lap again, exhausted by their tirade, and lay moaning to themselves while Hunk fussed his hands above them in an attempt to be helpful.

“I can try and help a bit with your projects if you want, I know a little bit about computer science from that course we went on.” He offered, smiling when they turned their head on its side to peer up at him.

“They’re hardcore, based on some ongoing research we’ve been doing, you can’t help.”

“Keith’s ill?” Lance asked

“Yeah. He thought the best way to make himself well was to freeze the illness out and then go to work. I just saw him trying to go to an art class. He walked into a wall.” Lance immediately burst out laughing and Pidge scowled at him, poking him between the eyes. “Hey, it’s not funny. He’s got the flu and I’m not around to help him. He doesn’t get ill often but when he does it’s bad.” Lance was still sniggering, but managed to calm himself enough for Pidge’s eye of disapproval to turn from him.

“Won’t he be okay by himself?” Hunk asked. “He seems like a pretty independent guy.” Pidge sighed.

“I hope so, but he looked pretty bad. I made him go back to bed but he was shivering and super hot.”

“He should go home if he feels that bad, I would. My mum makes the best soup when I’m ill.” Lance said, eyes closed in his memory of the soup. Pidge shook their head.

“No he doesn’t exactly… He’ll stay here.” They suddenly leapt to their feet and opened the fridge, seizing a can of soup with unexpected vigour. “I’m starving. Hunk, do you have any of that nice bread left?”

“Yeah! Hang on I’ll get it out for you.” Hunk rummaged in his cupboard and produced a loaf he’d made the other day and was especially proud of; pesto ran through the middle and it was spruced up with pumpkin seeds. He presented it with an exaggerated flourish to Pidge, who, along with Lance, immediately tore into it. Hunk sighed at the destruction of his creation. “Oh well. It would have gone off soon anyway, I guess.” Lance grinned at him through a mouthful of bread.

“Ipf gud!” He managed to say, though a large chunk of bread fell from his mouth onto the floor. Hunk shook his head. Pidge settled down with their cold soup and bread, but was interrupted by a beep from their phone. They glanced at it, then groaned and picked it up, rapidly typing a response. “Who’s that?” Lance asked, trying to tip the screen back so he could see. Pidge relented.

**(Useless (Keith))**

**Do you always feel like you’re dying when you’re ill?**

**(Pidge)**

**no, keith go to the doctors**

Lance grinned. “You named him useless?”

“I wouldn’t be so cocky. You’re useless number two.”

“Why am I not useless number one?” Crossing his arms, Lance pouted.

“Because he’s more useless than you, only by a little bit though.” Another message popped up on the screen, and they all drew heads to read it.

**(Useless (Keith))**

**No, I don’t need to go to the doctors it’s fine. It’s just a cold.**

Pidge snorted, typing back.

**(Pidge)**

**u have the flu u absolute muppet, go get some medicine**

**(Useless (Keith))**

**If it’s the flu then medicine won’t help. I’ll just wait it out it’s fine.**

“If we weren’t going away tomorrow I’d make him stay here until he gets better. God knows he won’t look after himself properly.”

“Lance could look after him.” Hunk suggested, though they could tell he was joking. Lance’s face became incredibly red.

“I am not being his nursemaid he’d be mean to me! You know what he’s like to me, he’d tease me about our engineering midterm , and more to the point we’re _rivals_. I can’t be seen nursing my rival! It’s not proper.”

“Relax Lance, I wasn’t serious. He’d probably hate that as much as you.” Snapping his gaze to Hunk, Lance frowned as hard as he could.

“Why would he hate it? I’m a good nursemaid and I can cook when I have to, he’d be the most well looked after person in the world and you know it.” His friends grinned at his ultimatum, not missing the flush spreading down his neck and his twitchy hands.

“Prove it then.” Pidge leaned in close, almost nose to nose with him. “Look after Keith while we’re away.” Backing away from Pidge, Lance waved his hands in denial.

“No. He doesn’t deserve me and he wouldn’t appreciate it. Besides he probably wants to stew in self-pity or something, he looks emoey.” Pidge snorted.

“Alright Mr righteous, leave Keith to his suffering.” Pidge returned to their soup, ignoring Lance’s further justifications.

 

Keith, to put it mildly, was dying. Every part of his body throbbed, his head worst of all, his body felt like it was in a sauna though he was shivering with cold, and worst of all he couldn’t draw. Even if he could pick up a pencil or brush in his current state his aching head wouldn’t allow him to concentrate on it without him feeling sick. He lay in his darkened room, the window open but the curtains drawn, listening to the faint noises of his flatness pottering about and the wind rustling his curtains. He’d not eaten anything since he got back from the café, and his stomach told him that if he tried it there’d be consequences. Feeling very sorry for himself, he reached for his sketchbook and flicked through it, admiring past drawings as best he could. He stopped on the one he’d done of Shiro almost a year ago, two months after he’d been found missing an arm in an active warzone. In the drawing his brother sat to the side, and the focus of it was his new arm, its silver reflecting the light of the moon. His eyes were closed peacefully and the night’s wind ruffled his hair. Silver and purple roses grew up his prosthetic to his hair, where they formed a subtle crown. Smiling, Keith dragged his fingers around the lines of the paining; unlike the others in his sketchbook this one was fully coloured and detailed, and his brother owned the real version; this was just a photocopy he’d stuck in. He’d drawn it when Shiro was at his lowest, filled with grief and guilt, and disgusted by his prosthetic. The painting highlighted its ethereal mechanical beauty, and he’d hoped his representation of it would give his brother some relief. There was little Keith could do to stop the pain of the loss of his brother’s best friend, but he could at least try to make him comfortable in himself and so that’s what he’d set out to do. He remembered the way his brother had smiled when he’d received it, as though a gate had been opened and recovery could begin. He set it down again, carefully. Glancing at his phone showed that Pidge hadn’t sent any further messages, so he shut it and tried to sleep, never mind the fact that it was barely 8pm. At least it was Saturday tomorrow, which meant he could stay in bed for as long as he liked. Allura had texted earlier demanding he take the weekend off to recover and he definitely wasn’t going to disobey. As he began to drift off his phone vibrated persistently, causing him to grumble and flip it open.

**(Pidge)**

**im worried about u, tell me ur alright**

**(Pidge)**

**if ur feeling really bad while im away text lance ill make him help**

**(Pidge)**

**do u even have lances number??**

**(Keith)**

**I’m alright. There’s no way I’m texting Lance for help, have you met him? Yes, I do have his number. He gave it to me when we first met and didn’t realise I was your friend so he flirted with me for like 5 minutes before I made him go away.**

**(Pidge)**

**omg when was that???**

**(Keith)**

**When you were going to introduce me to him and Hunk at that bar downtown, he arrived before you two and terrorized me.**

**(Pidge)**

**i remember omg is that why he was so awkward for the whole evening thats amazing why didnt you tell me**

**(Keith)**

**Because it was embarrassing.**

**(Pidge)**

**anyway, i know ur not alright so dont lie. ill pop by before we leave to make sure ur ok tomorrow**

**(Keith)**

**You don’t have to but okay. I’m going to go to sleep now so goodnight.**

**(Pidge)**

**night keith sweet dreams, see u tomorrow**

Keith turned his phone off to avoid further distractions and sunk further into his bed, burying his face in the pillow. Sleep evaded him for a long time before he finally kicked the covers off and admitted that maybe he had a temperature. The cool breeze coming in through the window lulled him to sleep which was as heavy as his body felt.

 

“Hunk can you pack my sleeping bag and stuff? I’m just popping over to Keith’s to make sure he hasn’t accidentally killed himself or something.” Hunk called an agreement as Pidge left, their little legs starting to trot as fast as they could to Keith’s flat. It only took about twenty minutes, and soon they were pushing through the broken door and stomping their arrival up the stairs. Keith didn’t meet them at the flat door, and hadn’t been responding to their texts, so they pounded against it until the lock clicked open and a face that definitely wasn’t Keith’s peered around it. “Hey. Where’s Keith.” The stranger blinked, pointing a finger to Keith’s door, which confirmed Pidge’s fears that he hadn’t left his room since last night. They took the opportunity to barge in, and banged their fist against Keith’s door. There was a groan from inside and Pidge felt a modicum of relief. They hadn’t been totally convinced that Keith _wouldn’t_ accidentally kill himself; the muppet had the self-preservation instinct of a mountain goat. A few seconds later a very bleary Keith pulled the door open a crack, revealing a chasm of darkness. “Keith. What have you eaten and drunk today? It’s 11am.”

“Uhh, a bit.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Some stuff.”

“You just woke up, didn’t you.”

“Maybe.” Pidge shoved their way inside his room, pulling the curtains open wide and giving him a frown of disapproval. He was wincing in the sudden light, and the open curtains illuminated his torrid condition.

“Keith.” He averted his gaze, picking at his vest top. “Sit down and drink this.” They rummaged through the bag they’d brought and shoved a bottle of Lucozade into his hand. “I know it’s not your favourite but it’s good for you. Lance says it’s full of electrolytes, and you seriously need to drink more.” Keith eyed the bottle speculatively, but under Pidge’s scrutiny he couldn’t not drink it, so he reluctantly unfastened the cap and took a tentative sip to satisfy them. “More.” They eyed him until he’d drunk half the bottle, at which point they emptied the rest of the bag, revealing more Lucozade, a very obviously hand crafted sandwich, and some crisps. “Please take care of yourself while I’m gone, I don’t want to come back and find you dead.” Keith nodded, but the movement overbalanced him and he had to place a hand on the bed to steady himself.

“Ugh. I hate being ill.”

“I know,” Pidge smiled, “but it should be over before the end of the week. Someone else on engineering had this so you probably got it from them.” Sighing, they glanced at their watch. “I have to go, we’re meant to leave in the next hour. Promise me you’ll look after yourself, and text Lance if you need help or supplies. He’s not all bad I promise.” They stared at him until he mumbled assent, then patted him on the head and made for the door. “See you next week, don’t die!.” Keith scoffed, but frowned as the door closed and he was left alone to his pain once more. Part of him wished Pidge hadn’t come and woken him up so he could sleep all of this off, but he knew they were right. He downed the rest of the Lucozade so he wouldn’t have to think about it too much and reached for the sandwich. Its edges were hewed roughly; obviously not Hunk’s creation, though he could tell the bread was his. Amused at Pidge’s cooking ability, he took a bite of the sandwich, finding it unexpectedly okay.

 

“Did he eat the sandwich?” Lance asked as soon as Pidge stepped through the door. They jumped, then laughed.

“What happened to ‘I’m not making him a sandwich he’s my rival and I hate him’?” He crossed his arms and looked away.

“I just care about whether or not he appreciated my creation. Everyone likes to be appreciated, Pidge.” Pidge merely gave him a wink and went to finish packing, Lance following after spluttering excuses.

“Well, feel free to make more creations for him to appreciate, he won’t make anything for himself, the idiot.” They turned from their packing to grin at him challengingly. “Unless you think your food isn’t nice enough for him?”

“What? Anything I make is good enough for him, he should be honoured that I would even touch the food he’s eating- you didn’t tell him I made it, did you?” Pidge shook their head. “How could something _I_ made not be good enough for him? He’s Keith and I’m _Lance_. That I’d even consider making something for him should be good enough for him.” Still grinning, Pidge returned to packing, sharing a knowing glance with Hunk when Lance wasn’t looking. Lance continued to spout, unprovoked, until he seemed to have exhausted himself and he collapsed on Pidge’s bed.

“Prove it to him then.” Pidge asserted, standing over Lance where he lay. “Take him food while we’re away that he has to admit is delicious.”

“No! He doesn’t deserve me.” He rolled onto his front, but Pidge could still see his cheek, could see that it had turned red.

“Alright then.” They shrugged, turning their back to him. “Let him suffer, all alone. By himself. With no one, and nothing to eat.” Lance uttered a soft moan into the pillow, a sign of inner turmoil of a kind which Pidge and Hunk were painfully familiar. Taking pity on him, Hunk sat himself down beside his friend.

“It’s okay, Lance, I’m sure he’ll be alright.” Pidge shot him a sharp look from across the room. “Er, for a while at least. I guess it can’t be easy being all alone when you’re so ill, though.” Lance appeared to have run out of oomph, for he stayed downed on the bed until it was time for the others to leave. They said their goodbyes, Pidge once again reminding him of Keith’s vulnerable state, and then they were gone, leaving Lance to his conflict.


End file.
